I experienced trains, trams and trolleybuses on a recent journey across Europe – and spied some interesting contrasts with Britain
A tram in Budapest
I have just completed my longest train journey ever, and no, it wasn’t one marred by rail replacement buses, driver shortages and signal failures on the West Coast Main Line.
My daughter and I decided a trip from Istanbul to London by train would be fun and enable us to break our journey and see various different countries on the way. We stopped for a day or more in Bulgaria, Romania and Hungary.
Such a schedule is of course not available to those who fly from Istanbul to London. I confess I dislike everything about carbon-busting air travel, from the endless queues at every stage, to the false bonhomie from the stewards on board. On a train or a ship you can wander around. In a car, you can stop and get out. Only in a plane are you effectively trapped under house arrest conditions, except the seats are more comfortable at home.
Naturally with my background I was interested in the whole rail experience as well, an enthusiasm for detail not entirely shared by my daughter.
We were able to stay a couple of days in Istanbul, a city which was clean and well organised, with plenty of modern trams plying their trade. Here, as right along our journey, English was widely used and understood. It is really quite shameful how bad we are in Britain at speaking foreign languages, and indeed, the teaching even of French is going backward at a rate of knots in our schools.
I recall being on a train in Belgium not long ago and was next to the conductor when he made quite a long announcement in French, Dutch and Flemish. When he had finished, I asked him a question in my A Level French and he replied to me in perfect English.
How many of our train conductors can speak even two, let alone four languages?
The first surprise in Istanbul was that it was impossible to buy a ticket for a train via the internet, meaning the only option was a visit to the station itself, armed with Turkish currency, which invariably seemed to come in 200 lira notes, each worth about £4.
We were required to get up in the middle of the night and alight at the Turkish border for our passports to be checked
Our train out was an overnight one to Sofia, capital of Bulgaria, offering a mixture of berths and standard seats. We had opted for the horizontal option, with two berths in our cabin, which itself was rather wider in both width and length than the rather restrictive Caledonian Sleeper I last used. It was also considerably cheaper.
There was even a fridge with a perfunctory breakfast for two within, comprising fruit juice, chocolate bars and breadsticks, which compensated to a small degree for the absence of any other catering on board.
It was not greatly welcome, however, that we were required to get up in the middle of the night and alight at the Turkish border for our passports to be checked, the whole process taking about an hour for the shuffling line of bleary-eyed passengers. As the train had not stopped since leaving Istanbul, why could this not have been done on departure?
Sofia too was clearly blessed with modern frequent trams, though the one I liked best was a vintage vehicle, which had been converted into a tourist information centre.
One joy for me on the train out of Bulgaria was that there was a window you could open, and actually open quite wide, to get some fresh air, and no modern air conditioning. Perhaps I am in a minority but I regard the roll-out of air conditioning on all trains in the UK as a backward step. Apart from anything else, it adds to the cost of running a train, to the pull on electricity, and to the overall carbon emitted.
To be parochial for a moment, the 377 trains which I use from Lewes to London are invariably too cold, meaning on a hot day you have to wear extra clothes which are unnecessary, indeed a burden, at either end of the journey. I gather from an on board supervisor (conductor) I asked that the temperature control on these trains is with the driver, which seems mad as he or she will have a totally different environment, including a window that opens.
There was more happy nostalgia, though, as the trains were corridor ones with individual compartments with three seats either side
The day train from Sofia took us to Ruse, where we changed trains for Bucharest. Again, there were windows that opened wide and no catering on board. Fortunately we had been forewarned to stocked up with provisions at Sofia station. There was more happy nostalgia, though, as the trains were corridor ones with individual compartments with three seats either side. I had not travelled in such a corridor train since the last electric Mark IV was withdrawn from my local rail line to Lewes in, I think, 2004.
We had our passports checked – four times in fact – transiting from Bulgaria into Romania, even though both countries are EU states. Bizarrely, our train left the last station in Bulgaria only to stop about 500 yards further on, then reverse back to the station where a couple of laid-back police officers boarded to check passports again. That particular train, thus delayed, and trundling slowly over very jointed track, got into Bucharest an hour late.
Another feature of this train journey, and indeed others earlier, is that jointed rail is still the norm. There is a certain nostalgic charm in again hearing the clickety-clack rhythm that has disappeared from British tracks with the near universal use now of continuous rail.
The nostalgia did however lose its charm somewhat on the overnight train to Budapest when I found myself on the lower berth, positioned over a bogie, and some very jointed rail.
If windows that can be opened and jointed rail sounds like the past, one notable feature was that almost every mile we covered in every train was under electric wires. There was in fact between Istanbul and London only one stretch of diesel operation, part of the route between Sofia and Bucharest.
One notable feature was that almost every mile we covered in every train was under electric wires
In the UK, we have only managed to electrify 39% of track, which reflects both the stop-start nature of political decision-making over the years, but also the excessive costs per mile that Network Rail have managed to run up. With for example the final cost of the recent and limited Great Western electrification scheme coming in at around £5.5bn, against an initial 2017 estimate of £874m, it is perhaps not surprising that 61% of our network remains unelectrified. In this regard, we can perhaps learn something from Turkey, Bulgaria and Romania.
One impressive feature in all the capitals we visited was the grandeur of the main stations, all of which were originals from the nineteenth century when rail was firmly centre stage. But like St Pancras in London, there was a well worked mixture of the old and the new. Bucharest Gara de Nord, for example, had an innovation I have not seen anywhere else: a machine that instead of dispensing chocolate or crisps enables you to purchase books.
Budapest was a delight, stunning in terms of architecture, and helped of course by the Danube that flows through the city. We took a trip on what looked like an old American paddle-wheeler that had escaped from a Creedence Clearwater Revival song.
The city was heaving with public transport. As well as copious single decker buses, trams operated along the main roads, with trolleybuses generally running along the side streets that crossed the main streets at right angles.
Nowhere in the UK do we have trolleybuses any more, though Leeds came close to reviving them. When I became a minister in 2010, there was a proposal for a trolleybus scheme for the city, and although I would have preferred a tram solution, pragmatically I did not want to start from scratch so gave the go-ahead for the trolleybus. Sadly after the coalition ended, the scheme was cancelled by the Conservatives and Leeds remains to this day the largest city in Europe without a tram – or trolleybus.
There is also in Budapest an extensive metro system. Line One, which I assume is the oldest, has some wonderful original tiling in its stations, reminding me of our own Baker Street on the sub-surface platforms.
Then it was a German train with a much more modern feel from Budapest to Stuttgart. There was a particularly effective information display system in each carriage which not only gave you real time information about how punctual the train was at any point, but also flagged up all the connections available at the next stop, even including the platform they could be found on. The audio announcements were succinct and relevant.
A short interchange at Stuttgart was followed by the same at Frankfurt, and then on to Brussels to pick up our Eurostar. It all went very smoothly, and indeed I need to record that every single train we took left on time and, bar the one referred to above, arrived within five minutes of its due arrival time, the majority bang on.
And so back to London where we were told just before we arrived that a full passport check would be carried out. That is notwithstanding that our passports had already been checked twice on departure at Brussels. Some sort of “Brexit bonus”, I suppose.
We were thus all filed down a very narrow moving passageway except it was not moving and more of a slipway. In my way, the numbers being funnelled down was positively dangerous.
And then it was onto a Thameslink train where for the first time on our journey home from Istanbul we were regaled with irritating and inane pre-recorded garbage over the tannoy, notably invitations to inspect safety cards, and regular repetitions of “see it, say it, sorted”. Welcome back to Britain.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Norman Baker served as transport minister from May 2010 until October 2013. He was Lib Dem MP for Lewes between 1997 and 2015.
This story appears inside the latest issue of Passenger Transport.
From Istanbul to London by train
by Passenger Transport on May 30, 2025 • 9:20 am No CommentsI experienced trains, trams and trolleybuses on a recent journey across Europe – and spied some interesting contrasts with Britain
I have just completed my longest train journey ever, and no, it wasn’t one marred by rail replacement buses, driver shortages and signal failures on the West Coast Main Line.
My daughter and I decided a trip from Istanbul to London by train would be fun and enable us to break our journey and see various different countries on the way. We stopped for a day or more in Bulgaria, Romania and Hungary.
Such a schedule is of course not available to those who fly from Istanbul to London. I confess I dislike everything about carbon-busting air travel, from the endless queues at every stage, to the false bonhomie from the stewards on board. On a train or a ship you can wander around. In a car, you can stop and get out. Only in a plane are you effectively trapped under house arrest conditions, except the seats are more comfortable at home.
Naturally with my background I was interested in the whole rail experience as well, an enthusiasm for detail not entirely shared by my daughter.
We were able to stay a couple of days in Istanbul, a city which was clean and well organised, with plenty of modern trams plying their trade. Here, as right along our journey, English was widely used and understood. It is really quite shameful how bad we are in Britain at speaking foreign languages, and indeed, the teaching even of French is going backward at a rate of knots in our schools.
I recall being on a train in Belgium not long ago and was next to the conductor when he made quite a long announcement in French, Dutch and Flemish. When he had finished, I asked him a question in my A Level French and he replied to me in perfect English.
How many of our train conductors can speak even two, let alone four languages?
The first surprise in Istanbul was that it was impossible to buy a ticket for a train via the internet, meaning the only option was a visit to the station itself, armed with Turkish currency, which invariably seemed to come in 200 lira notes, each worth about £4.
Our train out was an overnight one to Sofia, capital of Bulgaria, offering a mixture of berths and standard seats. We had opted for the horizontal option, with two berths in our cabin, which itself was rather wider in both width and length than the rather restrictive Caledonian Sleeper I last used. It was also considerably cheaper.
There was even a fridge with a perfunctory breakfast for two within, comprising fruit juice, chocolate bars and breadsticks, which compensated to a small degree for the absence of any other catering on board.
It was not greatly welcome, however, that we were required to get up in the middle of the night and alight at the Turkish border for our passports to be checked, the whole process taking about an hour for the shuffling line of bleary-eyed passengers. As the train had not stopped since leaving Istanbul, why could this not have been done on departure?
Sofia too was clearly blessed with modern frequent trams, though the one I liked best was a vintage vehicle, which had been converted into a tourist information centre.
One joy for me on the train out of Bulgaria was that there was a window you could open, and actually open quite wide, to get some fresh air, and no modern air conditioning. Perhaps I am in a minority but I regard the roll-out of air conditioning on all trains in the UK as a backward step. Apart from anything else, it adds to the cost of running a train, to the pull on electricity, and to the overall carbon emitted.
To be parochial for a moment, the 377 trains which I use from Lewes to London are invariably too cold, meaning on a hot day you have to wear extra clothes which are unnecessary, indeed a burden, at either end of the journey. I gather from an on board supervisor (conductor) I asked that the temperature control on these trains is with the driver, which seems mad as he or she will have a totally different environment, including a window that opens.
The day train from Sofia took us to Ruse, where we changed trains for Bucharest. Again, there were windows that opened wide and no catering on board. Fortunately we had been forewarned to stocked up with provisions at Sofia station. There was more happy nostalgia, though, as the trains were corridor ones with individual compartments with three seats either side. I had not travelled in such a corridor train since the last electric Mark IV was withdrawn from my local rail line to Lewes in, I think, 2004.
We had our passports checked – four times in fact – transiting from Bulgaria into Romania, even though both countries are EU states. Bizarrely, our train left the last station in Bulgaria only to stop about 500 yards further on, then reverse back to the station where a couple of laid-back police officers boarded to check passports again. That particular train, thus delayed, and trundling slowly over very jointed track, got into Bucharest an hour late.
Another feature of this train journey, and indeed others earlier, is that jointed rail is still the norm. There is a certain nostalgic charm in again hearing the clickety-clack rhythm that has disappeared from British tracks with the near universal use now of continuous rail.
The nostalgia did however lose its charm somewhat on the overnight train to Budapest when I found myself on the lower berth, positioned over a bogie, and some very jointed rail.
If windows that can be opened and jointed rail sounds like the past, one notable feature was that almost every mile we covered in every train was under electric wires. There was in fact between Istanbul and London only one stretch of diesel operation, part of the route between Sofia and Bucharest.
In the UK, we have only managed to electrify 39% of track, which reflects both the stop-start nature of political decision-making over the years, but also the excessive costs per mile that Network Rail have managed to run up. With for example the final cost of the recent and limited Great Western electrification scheme coming in at around £5.5bn, against an initial 2017 estimate of £874m, it is perhaps not surprising that 61% of our network remains unelectrified. In this regard, we can perhaps learn something from Turkey, Bulgaria and Romania.
One impressive feature in all the capitals we visited was the grandeur of the main stations, all of which were originals from the nineteenth century when rail was firmly centre stage. But like St Pancras in London, there was a well worked mixture of the old and the new. Bucharest Gara de Nord, for example, had an innovation I have not seen anywhere else: a machine that instead of dispensing chocolate or crisps enables you to purchase books.
Budapest was a delight, stunning in terms of architecture, and helped of course by the Danube that flows through the city. We took a trip on what looked like an old American paddle-wheeler that had escaped from a Creedence Clearwater Revival song.
The city was heaving with public transport. As well as copious single decker buses, trams operated along the main roads, with trolleybuses generally running along the side streets that crossed the main streets at right angles.
Nowhere in the UK do we have trolleybuses any more, though Leeds came close to reviving them. When I became a minister in 2010, there was a proposal for a trolleybus scheme for the city, and although I would have preferred a tram solution, pragmatically I did not want to start from scratch so gave the go-ahead for the trolleybus. Sadly after the coalition ended, the scheme was cancelled by the Conservatives and Leeds remains to this day the largest city in Europe without a tram – or trolleybus.
There is also in Budapest an extensive metro system. Line One, which I assume is the oldest, has some wonderful original tiling in its stations, reminding me of our own Baker Street on the sub-surface platforms.
Then it was a German train with a much more modern feel from Budapest to Stuttgart. There was a particularly effective information display system in each carriage which not only gave you real time information about how punctual the train was at any point, but also flagged up all the connections available at the next stop, even including the platform they could be found on. The audio announcements were succinct and relevant.
A short interchange at Stuttgart was followed by the same at Frankfurt, and then on to Brussels to pick up our Eurostar. It all went very smoothly, and indeed I need to record that every single train we took left on time and, bar the one referred to above, arrived within five minutes of its due arrival time, the majority bang on.
And so back to London where we were told just before we arrived that a full passport check would be carried out. That is notwithstanding that our passports had already been checked twice on departure at Brussels. Some sort of “Brexit bonus”, I suppose.
We were thus all filed down a very narrow moving passageway except it was not moving and more of a slipway. In my way, the numbers being funnelled down was positively dangerous.
And then it was onto a Thameslink train where for the first time on our journey home from Istanbul we were regaled with irritating and inane pre-recorded garbage over the tannoy, notably invitations to inspect safety cards, and regular repetitions of “see it, say it, sorted”. Welcome back to Britain.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Norman Baker served as transport minister from May 2010 until October 2013. He was Lib Dem MP for Lewes between 1997 and 2015.
This story appears inside the latest issue of Passenger Transport.
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